This whole thing is going to sound stupid, but I need to say it. I need someone to talk to me. Im not even supposed to have my computer so if I get caught writing this then I'm screwed, but there's a lot I need to get out there. I think it was about a month and a half ago, I had noticed my dog, Peanut, limping around and I brought it to my mother's attention. She said it was probably nothing. Later that same day he went to jump up onto the bed like he normally did, and yelped and fell as he did. When I told Mom, she agreed that something was wrong and took him to the vet the next morning. We were told that had a condition that typically afflicts the beagle breed, as he was half beagle. It caused his spinal disks to deteriorate faster than they should have, which, in turn led to the development if paralysis in his hind legs. My mother and her husband made the decision that the best thing to would be to put him down, most of which I hadn't been told until that night when I got home from school. So my beloved dog, who would've turned 7 this December along with his sister, is currently a bag of ash inside an approximately 5x3x2 rosewood box with a brass nameplate on the mantle in my living room. A few weeks afterward, I was in my college class when the professor told us all to go into the hallway and he would call us in individually to discuss our grades. When I was called in, I was told that if he were to reopen the link for our Study Abroad research paper, and if I were to submit it, it would give me more than enough points to boost my grade to a passing one. Well that night when I looked for the submission link, I couldn't find it. And I know the smart thing to do would've been to ask him for help, but I don't have the best history with asking teachers for help or assistance. Here's why. When I was in the fifth grade, I was in the AIG program for my elementary school. Because of this, some teachers assumed that it meant that we already knew everything there was to know about the curriculum they had for the other students. One such teacher had been my teacher, Mrs. Johnson. One day during math time in her class, myself and the other AIG students in her class needed help on some of the problems. So we went to her desk and asked her to help us. She went off. With other kids being able to hear her she looked at each of us and said, "You are each in AIG. You are supposed to know these things. What do you think the fact that you don't says about you as listeners, learners, and students?" Essentially she was implying that we didn't listen to our AIG instructor and that we didn't pay attention in class what so ever. I felt stupid and very ashamed at that time, and since I have always been more than reluctant to ask anyone for academic help, be it a teacher, my advisor, or even my parents. So, I never asked about the link. And because of it, I failed my class. My parents were notified by the school, and my mother, her husband, and my father all sat me down and lectured me for about two hours about how I need led to not be scared of teachers and the details of my grounding, which included no phone, restricted TV privileges, and no laptop. I've been evading the last one, hence why I said I'd be screwed if I was caught writing this. Throughout this, I've been struggling with emotions that I don't even know how to explain. Most people would settle on self harm to help deal with feelings like this, but as we've already established, I'm a fucking coward. So I went with what i decided was the next best thing. Marker. I have a red marker that I think looks close enough to the color of blood, so for the last 2 months I've been drawing lines on myself, pretending they're cuts. It doesn't help much, but it's something. I used to it on my wrist, and I wore long sleeves or a jacket, or sometimes both to hide them. But with it getting warmer where I am, I've started drawing on my thighs instead. In fact, I did just before I began writing all this out. There are people in my life who say they care about me. Some of them I believe, most of them I don't. Among those I believe are my father and mother, my dear friend and fellow user Rose, my close friends Hailey, Levi, Amber, Ryan, Ginny, Kerrigan, Brooke, and Shyann, along with my little brother Collin, my sister Amanda, my sister Savannah, and her fiancee Meredith. Those I don't include my mother's husband, several people who have claimed to be my friends across the years, such as Tori Lockhart, McKenzie Garris, and several others ive chosen to try and push from my memory. The one thing that all these people have in common is that at some point in their time knowing me, I have either annoyed, angered, or disappointed them in one way or another, and for that I am truly sorry. I've connected with other users in Wattpad, one if them being little_prince_cypher. He is one of the sweetest, most precious boys i have ever had the privilege and honor of meeting. I met him through a comment chain in a story we had both been reading. He had PMed me, and we continued talking from there. Even though I've never met him in person, I have grown to care for this boy as if he were my family, and I would gladly to anything to make sure nothing bad ever happens to him. I would do that for any of the important people in my life. I have enjoyed every second I've been given to talk to him and I hope for him nothing but the best. Though sometimes I feel ashamed of certain things I've said to the people I love. I always ask them if they're hungry or if they've eaten. If they haven't eaten I always tell them that they need to. In this sense i feel very much like a hypocrite. I cant remeber the last time I ate more than twice a day. I currently only eat about once a day, on rare occasion twice. It started out as me forget to go to breakfast or sign up for lunch at school for a couple days, and soon it just became habit. I avoided the cafeteria at all costs, unless I needed to find someone, knowing I'd be tempted by the food. On weekends, sometimes eat with my grandparents. When we go to their house i typically go to the room near the front of the house and lay down on the floor behind the wall until someone comes to get me for dinner. I try to get as little food on plate as possible with out seeming suspicious. When im asked if I want seconds, I always decline no matter how good it was or how much I don't want to. Now every time I stand up,  have to reach for something to stabilize myself because I'll get dizzy. I've been lying to people I love about thinking about harming myself and how much I eat, and I'm sorry for that. Im sorry for wanting to hurt myself, but I feel like I deserve it. Im sorry for not eating, but I feel to fat to eat what i used to. I feel ashamed of the body I'm in and of the thoughts that I have about myself, but I can't help it. I know there will be people who think im just fishing for sympathy. My mom's husband always thought I was every time we went somewhere and I'd  say that I didn't feel well or wanted to leave, he always had, so eventually I stopped saying it. I put up with it until we got home, when I'd make up an excuse to go to my room and try to focus on not banging my head against the wall or puking my brains out. And to those people out here, I don't want sympathy. I just want someone talk to me, to hear me, to try and understand what I'm dealing with. I just want help. So please. Help me. And to those who actually cared enough to read all of this, thank you. Thank you for listening to what I had to say. This is me. You all know know me as Onehapplothcat. My name is Zera. I will turn 15 in the coming August. And I am thankful for those of you who care.